


just an old sweet song

by DizzilySpiraling



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fireworks, M/M, Making Out, Sappy, Slow Dancing, Trucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7105939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzilySpiraling/pseuds/DizzilySpiraling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They watch the fireworks from a hilltop in Madison, Georgia. There’s a pickup truck, tight jeans, and a cold beer, like a scene out of a country song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just an old sweet song

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend listening to [this version of the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIH3S3A-BnY) as you're reading. I certainly had it on repeat the entire time I was writing, probably why this turned out so sappy.

They park the truck on a hilltop, away from well meaning parents and the crowds that have gathered in downtown Madison, Georgia. 

His mom gives up the keys easily when Eric asks, and Coach even passes Jack a cold beer while they're on their way out. Although he does add sternly, “Whoever drinks this doesn’t drive back.”

Bitty doesn’t trust Jack with the old pickup anyway. And he tells Jack on their drive up that he should drink the beer while it’s still cold. “I’m sure you’re a very safe driver, honey. But Eunice has trust issues. As soon as you turn up the air conditioning, her gear box decides it’ll only work _some of the time_.”

By some stroke of luck, they’re the only ones there when Bitty parks the truck, leaving the radio on. He fishes an old blanket from the backseat and tilts his head toward the bed of the truck. Jack considers it dubiously, then smiles the smile that means he’s about to chirp someone. 

“You need a boost there, Bits?” Jack looks so proud of himself for having thought that up, Bitty doesn’t have the heart to laugh at how lame it is.

“Har, har Mr. Zimmermann.” Bitty pushes himself up onto the bed of the truck just fine without any help, thanks. “You know, just because you’re built like a lumberjack, doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.”

“This shirt is comfortable.” Jack shrugs, leaning against the side of the truck and stretching his legs out in front of him. He holds his beer with one hand and rests the other arm along the side, beckoning Bitty over with an earnest smile. 

Bitty settles into the crook of Jack’s arm, heart fluttering in his chest. They haven’t really had a moment alone all weekend. 

His parents insisted on touring Jack around to show him the sights. Mama Bittle took an alarming number of photos, which she insisted ‘Bob and Alicia’ would want to see. It would never not be weird, hearing about how his mother is on causal first name basis with Jack’s parents. Between farmer’s markets and Independence Day parades, they’d only managed to sneak one lingering kiss on the back porch the night Bitty’s parents went up to bed early. Jack’s warm body pressed against his, awash in the warm glow from the porch light, his fingertips cold from the glass of sweet tea he was nursing. 

Now, Jack’s hand wraps effortlessly around Bitty’s shoulder, pulling him close. It’s easy to rest his head in the crook of Jack’s shoulder after that, their bodies slotting together seamlessly. Bitty chuckles to himself at an errant thought, causing Jack to look down at him curiously.

“Nothing. It’s just.” He giggles again, waving a hand in Jack’s general direction. “You look like you fit right in around here.”

At Jack’s baffled look, Bitty tips up to kiss his jaw quickly before clarifying. “You’re sitting on the bed of a red pickup truck, parked on a hillside, drinking a cold beer, on the most patriotic day of the year. I’m pretty sure half the country songs I hear on the radio describe this exact scene.”

“And I’ve got a pretty blond in tight jeans to kiss in the moonlight.” Jack smiles fondly and ducks down for a kiss, his eyes fluttering closed. “You forgot about that part.” 

Bitty flushes a little and uses a free hand to- lightly- whack Jack in his well built chest. “Oh hush. You’re not allowed to be that smooth, it’s unfair for the rest of us.” 

Jack laughs heartily, body shaking against Bitty’s. “Maybe I should get some cowboy boots, as a souvenir.”

And look, Bitty will be the first to say that Jack looks good in just about anything. And yes, the thought of Jack in some boots, just the boots, is quite appealing. But that boy needs to get his facts straight. “Honey. Please. We’re peaches, not cows. There are no ranches around here to wear your boots. Georgia is the number-”

“- one pecan producer in the world,” Jack finishes for him; clearly all the signage at the farmer’s market's had an effect. “I can’t bring a crate of peaches across the border, Bits. Maybe a can?”

Pulling out of Jack’s embrace, Bitty turns to face him, affronted expression on his face. If he wasn’t sitting and turned at an awkward angle, Bitty would’ve had his hands on his hips. “Baby. You did _not_ just say that to me.”

Jack laughs full heartedly now, his entire face lighting up as the sound disappears into the hillside. He takes Bitty’s face between his hands with the softest grip, as if he’s holding something fragile. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. ‘Canned peaches are a crime against humanity,’” he reiterates, from Bitty’s lengthy lecture on the subject earlier that weekend. “Forgive me?”

Bitty huffs, but tilts his chin up for a kiss anyway. “Some things are sacred, Mr. Zimmermann, and should not be taken lightly.”

“My fault entirely, won’t happen again.” Jack doesn’t look a bit remorseful as he tugs Bitty back against his chest. 

“Better not,” Bitty mutters, even though he’s sure Jack will buy canned peaches just to chirp him about his indignation. Honestly, this boy. He slides lower and turns further into Jack’s body, tangling their legs together and wrapping an arm around Jack’s torso. 

 

A part of Bitty still can’t quite believe Jack’s _here_ , even as he holds Jack’s body in his arms and listens to the beat of Jack’s heart thudding steadily against his ear. They don’t speak as the first whistle and pop sound in the air, a burst of colour lighting up against dark canvas. They breathe together, accompanied by the crackle of fireworks and a crooning voice on the radio. The sky lights up and darkens over and over again; Bitty grips tightly onto Jack, pressing them together as closely as possible. 

Jack doesn’t seem to mind the possessive grip, just rests his cheek against the top of Bitty’s head as they silently watch the fireworks display. 

A sizzle.

A flash.

A starburst. 

They breathe. 

The sky illuminates with a quick succession of smaller fireworks, followed by the showstoppers one after another, signalling the show is nearing its end. Bitty’s looking up at Jack during the finale, watching the fireworks reflect in his eyes. Jack’s eyes snap down to meet Bitty’s once he notices the staring, but Bitty just smiles and lays back down against Jack’s chest. 

When the sky darkens again, there’s a finality to it. They sit in the dark for a few more moments, neither of them moving. Bitty’s the first one to pull away reluctantly, already missing the warmth of Jack’s body. They shuffle off the bed of the truck; Bitty sits on the tailgate with his legs dangling off while Jack does a few stretches. He must have a few kinks in his back from sitting still for so long. 

Jack meets his eyes and his lips quirk up in a soft smile. He steps deliberately into the space between Bitty’s knees and tugs him forward by the hips. Bitty wraps his arms around Jack’s neck, and for the first time he’s the one leaning down for a kiss. It feels like they’ve been dancing around this all weekend, sneaking touches under the kitchen table, chaste kisses when they’re feeling particularly daring. 

The walls are so thin in his parents’ house that Bitty doesn’t dare attempt any sneaking around, even after his parents are asleep. He isn’t sure he can trust the creaky floorboards not to give him away, and his self control even if he makes it to the guest room undetected.

 

There’s no hesitation now; Bitty lets his lips fall open and Jack responds. Their tongues tangle together, Bitty’s fingers sink into the hair at the base of Jack’s neck. He finds out Jack is a biter, his lip feels completely swollen from all of Jack’s nibbling when they pull apart to breathe. Their eyes meet, foreheads pressed together, and they both let out a quiet laugh. Bitty pulls Jack back in by tangling his legs behind Jack’s back, putting his quads to use. 

It’s slower this time; Bitty traces a cheekbone with his thumb, Jack’s hands come to rest on his back. They move together, Jack licks over Bitty’s bottom lip, almost in apology for his haste earlier on. Bitty is having none of it and worries Jack’s lip between his teeth as revenge. Jack is the one to pull away, kissing down the column of Bitty’s throat as a soft piano melody sounds over the radio. The music goes on for a few more bars before Jack reaches Bitty’s collarbone and leans back up.

“Dance with me?” he asks quietly, hair thoroughly mussed and pupils blown wide. How is Bitty supposed to say no to that?

Detaching his limbs from Jack, he hops down and lets Jack lead them a few steps over. He’s pretty sure Jack doesn’t mean the type of dancing Bitty frequently indulges in at the Haus, so he lets Jack take the lead. Sure enough, Jack guides Bitty’s left hand to his shoulder and takes the other, one of his own hands finding its way to Bitty’s waist. 

Jack hums along as they sway in place, Bitty feels the reverberation of his chest when he rests his head against Jack’s shoulder. He closes his eyes to savour the moment, Jack’s chest rumbling, his voice in Bitty’s ear, the soporific motion of their bodies moving in tandem. The moon is bright in the sky when Bitty opens his eyes again, casting a light on the hillside, and he thinks maybe there’s some merit to country songs. 

It’s not dancing, by any stretch of the imagination. But Bitty wishes he could freeze this moment forever. The song winds down to an end, and Jack sings along to the last few lines, crooning in his ear. 

“I said just an old sweet song. Keeps Georgia on my mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'Georgia on My Mind'.
> 
> This work is beta'd by the [the lovely eeyore9990](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com).
> 
> As always, please feel free to inbox me on [my tumblr](http://dizzilytwirling.tumblr.com) about your headcanons and feels about these two idiots. I'm also still taking prompts, but I can't promise to fill every one I get.


End file.
